The Gentle Hand
by Laser Lance 720
Summary: "Sectumsempra!" It was a curse he had never heard before, but one that would stay in his memory for years to come.


**This one is done for the Title Challenge. For this challenge, I was to be given a title, and to write a story based on it. Simple enough really, and I quite like the title I was given. **

-oOo-

"Sectumsempra!" It was a curse he had never heard before, but one that would stay in his memory for years to come.

At first, all he felt was cold. Like the cold of a winter's rain, or the freezing steal of a knife. It ran through him, chilling every vein in his body until he was sure his breath would freeze in their air before him. Next had come the heat as his body finally realized that it had been ripped apart without mercy. He tried to breath, only to find his air stolen from his lungs.

He clenched his chest, feeling the torn fabric, and skin between his shaky fingers. Blood poured around his hands, from so many cuts that Draco didn't even know if there was any skin left intact on his chest. He staggered, feet slipping on the water that poured from some sink either him or Potter had broken. Cold, clean water ran along the floor, the same way blood poured from his chest, and as he fell backwards, his body crashing onto the cold marble, he wondered how much of his blood would wash away into the drain before he lost too much.

His wand rolled out of his hand, and lost in the destruction of the bathroom. He didn't care though, he doubted any healing charm he knew would be enough to stitch back together the attack Potter had placed on him.

"No." He heard Potter stammer as he dropped down beside him. "I didn't- I didn't mean…"

He tried to speak, wishing to demand that Potter let him be. The pain rushing through him was too much for him to even speak, or lift his hand from where it lay among the water and blood. He counted the moments until the pain would cease, for eternal sleep to take him then and there. Merlin knew how much he longed for this. For a quite peace, free from all that had been placed on him. Death was the only thing that would give him a relief from his task at hand, and Potter had finally given it to him. The least the Gryffindor could do now was leave, and let him die alone.

Murder! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM!"

Draco did wish he could muster enough strength to silence that blasted ghost screaming in the background. With how loud and shrill her voice was, he was surprised half the school hadn't heard and ventured to see what the problem was. But then again, they all had gotten so used to Moaning Myrtle's rampaging tantrums that he highly doubted anyone would dare come towards the sound, if they hadn't written it off already.

Draco's eyelids fluttered shut, and he breathed deeply, wondering how many more breaths his lungs still had in them. As he exhaled, he felt the pain only growing, and he wondered if the curse had sliced his lungs the same way it had his skin. He could feel himself slipping away. He didn't stop it, ushered it along really.

It seemed anticlimactic really, for him to die on a bathroom floor. But who was he to complain about what fate had in store for him. Fate had sealed his place as a Death Eater the moment of his birth. It had set him on a road that looking back, he wished he had gotten off of a long time ago. Who was he to complain that it was all for naught. Everything he had done, all the mistakes, it was for nothing, and he found it strangely relieving.

He was slipping, quickly.

A bang sounded through the room, followed by a haste voice that was too muffled for him to make out. He could still hear Potter moving beside him, and Myrtle's screams still rang through the air above him. The third presents was moving closer, but he couldn't make out who the voice belonged to, as the person dropped beside him.

Warm hands pressed over his shoulder, sending a spasm of pain through Draco's already battered body. He groaned, biting down the scream that wished to tear out of his throat as the hand was removed. He cracked his eye opened at that moment, wishing to see who was beside him.

Snape.

His Godfather hovered over him, is wand moving over the teen's chest as he surveyed the damage. Draco wanted to tell him to leave him be. He wanted Snape to leave, to stop trying to save him. He needed this, wanted this, and if his Godfather was there, Draco feared that he wouldn't be able to slip away into the darkness like he wanted.

Draco's eyes opened fully at that moment, feeling some of his strength seeping back into him. It wasn't much, but he could feel the darkness falling away from him. He tried to plead for Snape to stop. For the potions master to let him go, to let him die. When he tried to speak, it came out as a harsh cough, blood expelling from his lips.

Snape lifted his eyes from the teen long enough to glare at where Potter sat, before his gaze dropped back onto Draco, and he picked up the muttered spells where he had left off.

Draco couldn't only stare into his Godfather's eyes, watching the softness that sat in the corner of the black orbs. Feeling began to return to his body, as the pain slowly drifted away. It all seemed so sudden, the change from pain to numbness, and he wondered just how long he had been left bleeding on the floor.

It became clear that he was to live another day. He didn't know how he felt about that. One hand, he wished deeply that had all just left him there. Let his suffering come to an end.

But as much as he wished for that death, Draco found all those thoughts drifting away as he requested the gentle touch of his Godfather's hand on his shoulder. It was gentle, caring, something Draco wasn't used to anymore. He briefly wondered when the last time his own father had touched him with that much concern and care had been.

Darkness over took Draco's mind, but it wasn't the darkness he had wished for. Eternal sleep wasn't going to be granted to him on that night, but a short reprieve was. He swam in unconsciousness as the scene around him began to drift off, yet the gentle hand on his shoulder remained.


End file.
